


for appearance's sake

by sorbetcafe



Category: Disney's Toontown Online (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 10:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbetcafe/pseuds/sorbetcafe
Summary: cleff calls in sick the day before toonfest, apologetic, but assuring its host he knows the perfect replacementflippy is beyond far from perfect, but cleff asked, and unfortunately as acting mayor, he doesnt have the ability to say no





	for appearance's sake

**Author's Note:**

> haha what if i wrote a 5k fic about one of the more out there toontown ships filled to the brim with lore only me and my friends know about........just kidding............................unless?

“I’m not so sure about this, Riggy…” says Flippy, fitted in branded swim trunks, loose script in his left hand. He’s looking over himself more so than the paper. “Doesn’t this all seem like... I dunno, a bit much to you?” Sitting in front of him is the rabbit himself, elbows resting on his crossed legs, smirking his trademark smirk.  
  
“Nah. I actually think it fits ya pretty well, pool boy.” Flippy sputters immediately.  
  
“P-pool boy?!” the disbelief in his voice must be evident, as Riggy laughs a not particularly kind laugh.  
  
“Aw, lighten up, Flips. I’m jus’ playin’ around.” He bounces the leg that’s crossed on top of the other. “Y’look fine. You are gonna be the main target of anywhere between 1 to 100 Toons at a time all tryna get you wet, y’know. You’d best embrace the look now.” Flippy groans.  
  
“Don’t remind me. I’m just doing this as a favor for Cleff.” The poor duck had gotten sick last minute, and Flippy wasn’t about to let him just get worse by getting dunked in seltzer a million times over. At least, not when he’d called the dog directly he wasn’t. Mayoral duties and maintaining a friendly bond with the townspeople and all that.  
  
“Favor or not,” Riggy starts nonchalantly, breaking Flippy out of his thoughts, “you’re still gettin’ all that fluffy blue hair drenched t’morrow. Now c’mon,” he stands and rifles around in his shorts pockets for a bit, and Flippy takes the moment to regard him. He’s wearing a horrible get up that the dog would be hard pressed to call casual, but it’s definitely not his official Toonfest attire. It’s more or less just an outfit made of product placement, and his own at that. Both his shirt and pants bare his initials, a lone carrot wedged in between them. Tacky, is what Flippy would call it.  
  
“Aha!” Riggy lets out, and Flippy prides himself in only startling a bit. The rabbit pulls out a teleportation portal, slams it on the floor with seemingly as little grace as he could muster, and holds out a hand towards the shorter man. “If you’re all done starin’ at me, I’m pretty sure we’ve got a dunk tank to test out.”  
  
Fuck, had he been staring? He didn’t mean to stare. He was probably staring now, just blankly looking at the arm extended for him. It waves a bit, just as impatient as its owner, and Flippy rolls his eyes before grabbing hold of it. Riggy wastes little time, immediately readying himself to jump through, and before he can even blink, the comforting backdrop of Flippy’s house is replaced with the evergreens of the Whispering Woods.  
  
Once over the slight vertigo he always got from traveling through the black holes, Flippy takes a second to really admire the scenery. Very rarely had he attended Toonfest, more often than not happy just hearing about everyone else’s great times. He’d been once, the very first one, but long before everything was all set up. Pictures didn’t do the place enough justice.  
  
In a word, beautiful would probably suffice. Not exactly everything he’d say, there's words like wonderfully outdoorsy and positively stunning and absolutely nothing he was expecting that also pop into his head, but those were more extra than he needed.  
  
The place was a blend of festivities, picnic tables, trampolines, canons, the huge tower in the middle, and of course the dunk tank. The whole reason he was here. Dotted between everything in various amounts were the cedar trees he used to get lost in, unaware of this clearing ever existing, and grassy hills that looked more than inviting to take a rest on.  
  
After he finishes his gazing, Flippy turns to Riggy just to see him already looking at him with a glint in his eye, the same no good smirk pulled on his muzzle. Heat pools in Flippy’s face as he’s suddenly hyper aware of his current shirtless predicament, and just as quickly as he’d turned to face the rabbit, he turns away. He goes straight toward the dunk tank, and fights the urge to raise his ears as Riggy chuckles behind him.  
  
“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbles, scrambling for purchase to climb inside the huge plexiglass container. He keeps at it for a bit, confused at how Cleff was able to do it just fine, until Riggy clears his throat from beside him.  
  
Chancing the look over, Flippy sees the man down on one knee, hands prepped for a leg up, and expression smug. “All done stretching?” he has the gall to ask, as if this whole entire situation right now wasn’t bad enough, “‘Cause honestly, bein’ down here’s gettin’ t’be a little tiresome. Are you gonna let me hoist ya up or are you gonna claw your way up this thing?”   
  
A new wave of embarrassment rolls over Flippy, and he pointedly does not look at Riggy as he accepts the help. Once he climbs over the rim and drops onto the seat, Riggy instructs him how to sit on it without accidentally activating the dropping mechanism himself when the game is live, and how to wiggle around so that he does, just in case the manual one is being a bit too fickle.  
  
“There! Perfect!” Riggy smiles, clapping his hands together. “Now, d’you remember your lines or am I gonna have to teach you the song and dance myself?” Flippy could actually not think of anything worse than him doing that, but somewhere between his house and the woods he’d lost his script, and there was no way he remembered everything after barely even glancing at it.  
  
His expression must do all the talking for him, as Riggy lets out a snort. “God, don’t look so scared. I gotta save these dulcet tones for the next month, thank you very much!” Flippy can’t help the eye roll he gives. “You should have another copy in your pocket, butterfingers.”  
  
Flippy, unsure if he needs to be but still careful nonetheless to be sure not to activate the chair, reaches in his back pocket with a grumble. Lo and behold, there is indeed another script, folded neatly four times over. He irons it out over his thigh before reading it off.  
  
It’s just some basic stuff, really. Instructions on how to play, where to get the pies to play, the (albeit obvious) goal of the game. Nothing Flippy couldn’t simply adlib.  
  
“Alrighty,” comes Riggy’s voice from somewhere behind him, full of giddiness, “ready to learn what tomorrow’ll be like?”  
  
Without so much as a warning, Flippy hears the sound of some lever being pulled, and then he’s completely awash in seltzer water.  
  
The only thing he can hear when he resurfaces, besides his own heavy breathing, is loud, downright zany laughter. Flippy has to take a good, long moment of just catching his breath before he can even begin to think coherently.  
  
Riggy’s back in front of the tank now, mirth evident in his entire being. He’s got one hand over his mouth, shoulders still shaking soundlessly. Admittedly, Flippy probably did look more like a drowned rat than a dog at the moment, but he couldn’t have looked that horrible.  
  
“You look like you’ve never been in water in your life before,” chuckles Riggy, tactful as always. Flippy does his best to ignore him as he pulls his bangs back to fall in line with the rest of his hair, squeezing some of the water out of it. He redoes his ponytail while he’s at it, the band having come loose in the middle of becoming the world’s fastest fool.  
  
“Okay, okay. I’ve been dunked. Now, how do I get out of this?” he asks, purposefully making his voice calmer than he felt. It’d be no good to give Riggy what he wanted, which was apparently as many excuses to mess with him as possible, if the rest of today was any indicator. Riggy drops his hand and props it on his hip, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Just hop back on the seat, wet stuff. It won’t reactivate until someone else makes it, either with them fake Cogs or by jerry-riggin’ it.” It’s surprisingly straightforward for Riggy. Even with the inane nickname.  
  
“Great, great. How do I get out though?” asks the still waterbound dog. Riggy smiles, and for whatever reason it’s not as harsh at it usually is. He points upward.  
  
“Same way you got in, Flipster.” Flippy follows Riggy’s finger to the top of the tank and sighs. Of course.  
  
Flippy begins his accent, pausing on the seat to shake out his legs a bit, before leaping up and catching the rim of the tank. This was a horrible way to do this. He was already panting from exertion. Still, he hooks one leg over the glass, then the other, and hangs down as far as he can before letting go. The trip down isn’t nearly as far as he thought it’d be and he easily lands crouched on all fours, only to promptly slump against the huge cylinder.  
  
Polite golf clapping sounds above him, along with an impressed whistle. “Congratzi, blue! You’re the first one to do that without question!” he chuckles, sticking a hand out in Flippy’s direction. “No other way to do it, sure, but everyone else at least asked about it.”  
  
Flippy looks up at Riggy. He’s still wearing that expression, something realer than the permanent grin he always wore. Either way, Flippy wasn’t about to turn down a helping hand. He slips his own hand into Riggy’s and he’s up faster than he was expecting. The rabbit must’ve been a lot stronger than he looked.  
  
“Thanks,” Flippy huffs, “I appreciate it.” Riggy shrugged, giving a noncommittal noise.  
  
“Eh, it’s nothing, Flip Flop. Thank you for agreein’ to this. I know you don’t wanna.” Flippy startles a bit, surprised. He opens his mouth to say otherwise, but Riggy tuts before he can get a word out.  
  
“C’mon now, you said so yourself just before we got here. ‘Just a favor for Cleff’ and the like? Don’t tell me you forgot already.” Flippy’s mouth clinks closed and he looks down, embarrassed for the second time that day. He had forgotten, actually. Riggy blows a raspberry.  
  
“Typical pool boy,” he says while crossing his arms, Flippy can actually feel all his embarrassment melt away quickly into indignation.  
  
“You are just… the most, do you know that?” Riggy pulls one hand free and places it on his chest, trying to look hurt even through his stupid grin in lieu of an actual answer. It’s not working to its intended effect at all.  
  
“Ugh. Whatever. Is this initiation done? Can I go home now?” Flippy asks, leaning back against the tank again, eyes closed. It’s only then that he can appreciate the sudden wave of tiredness that hits him. He’d only been here for maybe 30 minutes, but Riggy was quite the tiresome Toon.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, go get your beauty rest,” the rabbit says, shooing him off, and Flippy can’t start pulling out his black hole fast enough. “Just be sure to set your clock, Mr. Forgetful. It’s either you wake yourself up or I do!”  
  
His voice blissfully fades as Flippy gives a curt wave and jumps into his personal portal home.  
  
The first thing Flippy does upon entering his house is flop down on his bed with a groan. Then, when realization struck, he immediately hopped back up. He wasn’t so wet anymore, teleporting having dried him a bit, but he was still drenched in seltzer particles. Flippy was far from a neat freak, but even he had his limits, and they started and ended with his bed.  
  
Sighing deeply, the dog moves sluggishly through his estate, readying himself for a quick shower. He lazily tosses the trunks in his washer/dryer and starts it before stepping into the bathroom. The machine whirrs to life as he closes the door and turns on the taps.  
  
Once he’s washed and dressed, Flippy walks to his kitchen, refills Fluffy’s bowls and draws a small cup of tap water for himself. Fluffy meanwhile was already snoozing comfortably in his bed, his daily late evening nap. Flippy watches him as he rests peacefully while sipping at his cup, just thinking.  
  
God, what had he gotten himself into? He feels like he’s both way in over his head and also like it’s not even happening. It’s both too much and nothing at all.  
  
Flippy unceremoniously finishes his drink and leaves the cup on the counter. Just more stuff for later, he supposes. Surpassing a small yawn, he makes the short walk back to his bedroom and collapses back onto his bed, physically fresh and only slightly mentally drained.  
  
Tomorrow was sure to be a day.

* * *

  
  
At Way Too Early in the morning, Flippy is awoken by Fluffy barking and jumping and every conceivable thing he could possibly do to get him up.  
  
“What… what is it boy… ? There’s food and water in the kitchen, you know that…” Flippy fends off his Doodle with groggy words alone, pulling the covers over him and closing his eyes tightly. Fluffy doesn’t let up though, and through the barking Flippy can just barely hear the sound of a portal opening somewhere. He shrugs it off as him hearing things, until suddenly a weight heavier than Fluffy flops down carelessly on his bed.  
  
“Yoo-hoo! Sleeping Beauty!” all but shouts the one voice Flippy couldn’t dread more to wake up to. “Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, it’s Toonfest Time!” He’s hitting at the lump that is Flippy with an annoyingly steady rhythm. Flippy groans and moves, trying to be out of reach, but Riggy’s arms must be longer than he remembered, as he simply adjusts where he’s slapping after the fact. It’s pissing Flippy off beyond words.  
  
“We are not friends,” is the first thing he growls out in the presence of the obnoxiously blue rabbit. “How did you get into my house.” It’s not a question. He shifts so he’s sitting up enough to glare at him. So maybe Flippy was a little cranky in the morning, after an awakening like this one, who wouldn’t be? It doesn’t look like it much matters to Riggy anyways, who’s simply grinning his neverending grin.  
  
He blatters, hand making a blasé circle motion in the air, “Eh, business passes and the like. You know how it is,” And no, Flippy decidedly does not know how it is, but there’s a grown man in his house who doesn’t seem keen on leaving without him, so, with excruciating effort, he pulls himself out of bed and starts his daily routine.  
  
Truthfully, Flippy was hoping he had only dreamed he agreed to do this, but he supposed there was no way out of it now.  
  
Unsurprisingly, trying to get ready when someone you wouldn’t even consider an associate is just lounging without a care in the world on your bed, in your house, which you don’t remember even pretending to give him access to, is not the easiest thing in the world. Flippy grits his teeth, pulls out what he’ll need for and after the shower he’s going to waste as much time as he possibly can in, and locks the bathroom door after entering.  
  
Coming out into his room in fewer clothes than he went in with is something he can easily say he doesn’t think he’d ever get used to, especially with someone other than Fluffy waiting there for him. Speaking of the Doodle, apparently somewhere during his absolutely way too hot shower, Riggy had gotten him to hop up into his lap. He was feeding him jellybeans like they grew on trees, and Fluffy was like putty in his gloved hands. Traitorous little so-and-so. Riggy has the boldness to wolf whistle Flippy out of his thoughts, and Flippy just scowles at him. It was early, he was allowed to be mean this early.  
  
“Ready, pool boy?” he asks in the most frustrating tone possible, and to say it takes Flippy more energy than he’d be willing admit to control the sudden urge to lunge at him would be an understatement. It was beyond annoying, downright aggravating in fact, the way Riggy was able to push at his buttons without even knowing him. After all, nobody really knew him. No one except for…  
  
Flippy pulls his arms together, silently walks over to his dresser and absently picks around for a hair tie, any anger he could’ve been feeling drained at the sudden reminder of his lost friend. It didn’t exactly help that he was the direct cause of it happening, that he was the sole reason Slappy wouldn’t be here to see and enjoy Toonfest. He probably would’ve been a great substitute for Cleff too, all the real, passionate excitement, the unending zeal for everything in life… not to mention the fact he was also a duck. The terrible water Flippy was going to find himself in until the sick duck got over his cold would be hell for him. Liquids seeped into his fur, not rolled right off.  
  
Slappy should be the one doing this, not Flippy. Flippy shouldn’t be doing this at all. Flippy shouldn’t be mayor. Flippy shouldn’t be a lot of things.  
  
Distracted, he accidentally pops at his wrist two times before he’s able to get the tie around the hair he’d bunched up while lost in his own world, and when he finally turns to Riggy, something is off.  
  
The annoying grin that’s normally permanently affixed to the rabbit’s face is missing, replaced with something else entirely. It’s not exactly easy to tell what in particular, since just as little as he knows about Flippy, Flippy knows about him, but it doesn’t seem anywhere near the happy scale at all. If he had to put a word to it, Flippy would say he looked… almost reserved.  
  
It’s not there for long, a smile even Flippy could tell was forced soon swallowing it. Riggy pats Fluffy a bit more before rolling him off his lap, to which Fluffy only moderately objects to. He barks and whines, and Flippy watches as Riggy looks away from his direction and down at Fluffy instead, giving him a head scratch with another weird look on his face. Something in the opposite direction than it was just in a couple seconds ago, and his smile falls back into something more natural.  
  
“Sweet pooch,” he says, quieter than he’d been in the entire time he’d been since Flippy had been forced into this mess. “Must remember me from forever ago.” It’s then that he remembers Fluffy’s home turf was indeed the woods Riggy lived in. It wasn’t too far fetched to believe the two had crossed paths before. It’s the first time Flippy is able to see the loud and uppity rabbit as something other than a caricature of his worst nightmares all wrapped into one person. It’s nice, if only for a moment. It’s definitely nice.  
  
Riggy’s watch beeps, and the moment is effectively over. The rabbit himself simply gives Fluffy one last pet before lifting himself up and pulling out a portal from his hat, and it’s the first time Flippy is able to fully acknowledge Riggy is in his official Toonfest garb. It looks a lot better than he remembers it looking in some of the photos he’d seen in previous years.  
  
He moves closer to Flippy, tossing the black hole on the floor. The dog has no reason to believe he’d come any closer than that, but he does, pushing his face past Flippy’s, arms reaching. For a frightening second, the much shorter man is convinced he’s going to try and hug him, which is the last thing he’d really want right now, but he doesn’t. Instead, Flippy feels him mess with his hair, and then all of it cascade down, released from its sloppy ponytail.  
  
Confusion is the only emotion Flippy can feel for a moment, even as Riggy pulls back with his regular grin on his face. He takes his hands back with him, securing the hair tie around the same wrist his Laff Meter is on.  
  
“You’re jus’ gonna lose it if you wear it in the tank,” he explains, lighter than Flippy was expecting for his expression. “I’ll be sure to give it back t’ya at the end of the day.” Flippy, at a loss for words, simply looks between Riggy’s wrist and face, and nods. Sure. Whatever.  
  
“Anyways,” he says, back to his normal cadence, “we gotta get t’ steppin’. Toonfest opens in just a couple minutes, and I haven’t been late to one yet. Head’s up, blueberry!” Without any further warning, Riggy grabs his hand and jumps, and Flippy allows himself to be pulled into the small teleportation hole.  
  
Just like yesterday, the place leaves him a bit stunned. The morning dew is a delight to his senses, and even with the moderate bags forming under his eyes, he feels slightly refreshed.  
  
Without waiting to be told this time, Flippy groggily makes his way over to the tank, lets himself get bolstered up by a waiting Riggy, and situates himself like how the Toonfest host taught him how to the day prior.  
  
Riggy looks at his watch. “Looks like we’re just in time! I gotta go move the barriers an’ get this party started! Good luck gettin’ dunked!” The rabbit gives him a mock salute, standing straight to attention, before running over to the entrance.  
  
Flippy’s not entirely sure what he was expecting in terms of attendance, but the huge horde of them entering is certainly surprise enough to wake him fully. Most of them run around just looking at everything, but a good chunk of them immediately eye the dunk tank. Flippy clears his throat. It’s showtime.  
  
“Step right up, take a turn, dunk a dog!” he prattles, using his toonyest smile. “Grab a couple pies at the concession stand and hit some stuffed Cogs to start the fun!” It was completely off script, but it got the point across and Flippy saw some smiles rise in the crowd, so clearly he was doing a good job.  
  
It’s not long before Flippy takes his first dip into the waiting water. Eager Toons made quick work of the target, and as luck would have it, using the duck tank seemed to be the most steady way of making the precious Toonfest coins the festival goers wanted so badly. It wasn’t exactly hard to activate it in the first place, either.  
  
As wave after wave of Toons come in, Flippy tastes more seltzer than he’d ever have the pleasure of wanting to in his life. Still, at some point, he finds his smile getting easier and easier to maintain. He was starting to have real fun, even if it was just getting others to throw him to his doom every so often.  
  
In the small bits of downtime he’d have, just sitting and waiting, he got to watch Riggy do his thing. Flippy would easily admit he was a lot more charismatic when not trying to be the most annoying creature on the planet. Even without sound he could tell the rabbit was putting on his own show. It could almost be considered charming, the way Toons would surround him and all leave with a smile. He was clearly a man who loved his job.  
  
Time whizzes by, and before Flippy knows it, the helper bears are beginning to escort Toons out. When the last couple of stragglers shuffle out of the grounds, Flippy takes the time to appreciate just how exhausted he is.  
  
Riggy, for his part, doesn’t look too much worse for wear than he did this morning. He waltzes over to the tank wearing the look on his face that lets Flippy know something dumb is about to come out of his mouth, but he doesn’t have the energy needed to care much.  
  
“Woof,” he exhales, leaning one side against the plexiglass and looking up at Flippy, “smells like wet dog.” It takes a good minute for it to really hit, the whole time Riggy’s grin doesn’t falter, and when Flippy finally gives him the dirtyest look he can muster, the man bursts into laughter.  
  
“Ha, ha,” Flippy deadpans, eyes rolling. “Can I get out of here now?” Still lost in his fit of giggles, Riggy just nods. Flippy drops his stare and sighs, smiling despite himself. It might’ve been a rough day, but at least it wasn’t joyless.  
  
Unlike the previous day, getting out of the tank proves to be a much bigger hassle. Maybe it’s all the water bogging him down, or maybe it's him just being tired. Toonfest started early and ended late, and with the weird way time bent in the Whispering Woods, it felt like Flippy had been there for days.  
  
After successfully climbing up, the dog finds himself simply hanging over the lip of the dunk tank for a bit, pensively looking down at the ground. If gravity was affecting him so much going up, he was loathe to find out how it’d work its magic while going down. He’s stuck staring blankly at the ground for a minute before a face full of Riggy obscures its view. His hands are lifted high.  
  
“Need some help?” he smiles, and it’s actually a smile. Not a sly grin or smirk, but a genuine smile. Flippy doesn’t even think before nodding.  
  
One leg goes over the top, then the next, and then for just a second Flippy’s in a freefall. He doesn’t have enough time to panic though, as Riggy catches him effortlessly with a satisfied, “Gotcha!” He’s still all smiles. Flippy feels something inside him stir, and he smiles back despite himself.  
  
Riggy lets him down and keeps one steadying hand on him as he fully catches his balance. “So,” he starts, looking straight at Flippy,”how was the day, Flipster? Wet enough for ya?” He’s ribbing, but for once Flippy can’t find it in him to be annoyed.  
  
“Something like that,” he mumbles. “I think I’m more tired than wet at this point, though.” Riggy hums.  
  
“Yeah, a full day of gettin’ dunked’ll do that to a Toon,” he says, a surprising amount of understanding in his voice. “You can go on home now if you wanna. I gotta stick around and finish up some things.” He squeezes Flippy’s shoulder before letting go. “See you t’morrow then, yeah?” Flippy nods without objection.  
  
As the rabbit begins to walk away, Flippy follows him with his eyes. He’d love to go home, really, but he can’t fight the feeling he’s forgetting something. That and after the day, he’s simply gained a new appreciation of the saunter in Riggy’s step. It was just as peculiar was it was unique.  
  
Flippy runs a hand through his loose hair, twisting it to get out the excess moisture, and remembers what was missing when he reaches for a tie that’s not there. Riggy still had it, a simple black band that didn’t really mean much, but one he’d like back nonetheless.  
  
“Hey! Riggy!” he calls, speed walking more than running, still not having the energy for it. “Wait up!” One of Riggy’s ears twitch and he turns around, confusion etched on his face. He’s not that far away, and Flippy means to slow down as he gets closer, but he’s so focused on controlling his legs that he doesn’t notice the rock he promptly trips over.  
  
Flippy falls the rest of the way to Riggy, who yelps and goes down with him. It takes a moment for Flippy to recover, and when he does he almost wishes he hadn’t.  
  
He’s laying on Riggy’s chest, judging by the face full of bow he has, and moreover just collapsed on top of him. He scrambles to sit up as he feels his stomach drop further than it has in quite some time. Riggy’s just staring at him, seemingly a bit dazed himself, and Flippy is just beginning to write his entire letter of resignation in his head when the man bursts out into laughter. Flippy stares, eyes wide and face flushed.  
  
“That’s certainly a new way t’ stop someone!” he lets out through giggles. “What’s up, where’s the fire?” Flippy’s still vaguely hovering over him, and it’s killing him how it’s seemingly not affecting Riggy at all.  
  
“You… uhm…” he tries, the left over fear making him falter slightly. “My, my hair tie. You said you’d give it back.” Realization dawns in the Rabbit’s eyes and he chuckles.  
  
“I sure did, didn’t I? Well, come ‘ere.” He beacons Flippy closer, and he leans further without thinking. Riggy moves forward and slips both his head and hands past Flippy’s cheek, just like earlier. For some reason, the way he gingerly gives the dog a new ponytail makes it a million times worse.  
  
“There, all done,” Riggy says, pulling back once again. “Sorry for talkin’ the big talk about you bein’ forgetful and then forgettin’ myself.” Flippy shakes his head.  
  
“It’s alright,” he hears himself saying, even though his mind is on other things. Like how Riggy could’ve simply given him the tie back instead of putting it in himself. Or the fact he’s still under him. Or the fact he doesn’t seem to have any issue with the former. “Don’t worry about it.” Flippy sits back on his legs suddenly, the need to not be in the current situation overpowering the want to analyze it. “I should go,”  
  
Flippy watches as the grin Riggy had on his face drops almost imperceptibly. If he were any further away, he wouldn’t have noticed. “Alrighty,” he says, lifting up effortlessly and reaching out. Flippy slips his hands into Riggy’s and feels himself be raised with the same amount of ease from earlier. “Get home safe, Flippy.”  
  
Something passes over Riggy’s face, but it’s much too quick for Flippy to discern it. He’s too lost in the way that Riggy said his actual name, rather than some dumb nickname. He nods through it though, and shakes the hands he just fully realizes he’s still holding. “You too,” he says, letting go, stepping back a bit and waving. Riggy smiles and does the same before turning and continuing on his way.  
  
Flippy goes home and doesn’t think about any part of the exchange he’d just had. He places the hair tie on his dresser and moves the rest of the ones he has strewn about out of the way. Today was a lot, but it wasn’t… bad. It definitely wasn’t bad. It would be nice to have a similar day tomorrow.  
  
When he sleeps that night, he deliberately ignores setting his clock.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading!! ily!!!  
as i said theres a bunch of things here thats headcanon territory, considering neither of the main characters here really have much, so if you have any questions feel free to ask! id love answering them :D


End file.
